Graffiti Spider
We roamed the village in our masks -
a store-bought 1960’s plastic with string.
To trick and treat for candy, our task.
The bagful, we’d try to eat the whole thing.
We roam the village, as Dad hands out candy,
but soon runs out thus shutting out the light.
There is mischief night, its modus operandi -
four letter words scrawled on the door - a slight.
Door to door, most give hand-out of sweets
but one is pointed out - it is pitch dark
“They don’t celebrate.” A curiosity I greet.
God knows my path - there is a spark.
The Halloween parade was a hit with cider
and donuts - my dad reminds me …
but I remember the thankless graffiti spider
and the Holy Spirit fire that set me free.
10/25/2022
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